We Have a Choice Here

Not all of them want to learn. Not all of them will come here and feel safe. You can’t help all of them. Some just can’t be saved.This I was told. And so my heart broke. I took it personally when I opened the door and forced opened books and tried my best to pry open their hearts and minds and then watched them ride home in stereotypically broken-down pick-up trucks, Confederate flags plastered to bumpers.

You can’t control the universe.As a 23-year-old stepping into newly bought and paid-for teacher shoes, I wasn’t told. But I have learned.

You can’t control the universe.I realize now. And so what happens today inside our beloved pale-yellow-brick walls where the windows barely open far enough to let in a much-sought-after May breeze? We have a choice here. This space we own, and it can become ours.